


i don't say a lot of things (and you, my love, are gone)

by Miss_Six



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Bittersweet Ending, Cancer, F/M, Major Illness, Multiverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 06:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20701145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Six/pseuds/Miss_Six
Summary: On love, loss, and grief: A duet.





	i don't say a lot of things (and you, my love, are gone)

**Author's Note:**

> **Please, PLEASE read the tags for content warnings.** This is so different from anything else I’ve written for them, and I don’t expect everyone to like it but I also don’t want anyone to have an unpleasant experience so please make sure this is your jam before reading on.
> 
> I don’t usually do detailed author’s notes, but this fic is very special to me and it would not exist if it weren’t for the help and support of both the Guild and the NSEVMI gcs. Meeting all of you has made this whole wild ride worth it. 
> 
> Much love and appreciation to:  
**runnyc33,** for all your encouragement and for convincing me this was an idea worth writing!  
**awakeanddreaming,** for reading my initial draft about a hundred times, for giving me ideas to make it better(worse), and for cheerleading me along the whole way. Happy Birthday!  
**only_because3,** because it’s kinda your fault I took a tiny, painful 500 word scene and built a whole fic around it. And I love you for it.
> 
> Enough from me, on to the story.

_“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”_

― Kahlil Gibran

**[red]**

Tessa’s eyes open. _ Today is Sunday. _

Sunday means brunch plans with Scott while they’re both in town. She checks her phone, which already bears a text from him. _ Still on for 10:30? _

It’s 9:00. Tessa sighs and sits up to stretch, letting herself fall back on her pillow for one luxurious moment, then sweeps back the covers so she can get up and ready to go. She picks up her phone again and taps out a reply. _ Sure thing. Order me coffee if you get there first? _

Her phone chimes as she’s brushing her teeth. _ As you wish, Queen T! _

***

“Scott,” Tessa says quietly, patiently. He’s always fidgety, always barely containing restless energy, but it’s different today. He’s different today.

“What? Oh,” he says, realizing he’d just tuned out in the middle of the story Tessa had been telling. “Sorry.” His focus is back on her, but his fingers still twitch around hs coffee mug.

“So are you going to tell me what’s on your mind?” She’s a little miffed, because she knows he came here to tell her something–his body language is telegraphing it from a mile away–and he’s putting it off, which means he knows she won’t want to hear it.

“Yeah, um. I have some news.” He shifts in his seat. “Big news.”

“Okaaaaay,” she says slowly. “What’s your big news?”

“I’m moving,” he tells her. “To Paris.”

Tessa blinks once, twice. “Oh,” she says. “Paris.”

“Yeah,” Scott says. “I joined the coaching team for Demougeot and Le Mercier.”

“You don’t even like Paris,” she blurts out, unable to contain herself and immediately regrets it.

His eyes are defensive. “Well I don’t exactly get to choose where they train.” He doesn’t snap at her, but his tone is more blunt than usual. “They brought me on after that decision was made.”

“Why are you really going?” she asks–no, demands. “You’re finally home almost full time, I thought that’s what you wanted.” 

He’s silent for a moment. “I can’t take it, T,” he says. “It's so quiet all the time, I’m running out of things to do around the house…” He trails off. “I feel like I’m ready to crawl out of my own skin.”

Tessa surveys him from across the table. He meets her gaze, and his is uneasy, but steady. “How long?” she asks, softly.

“I don’t know. At least the season. I’m giving it that long.”

Her mind is in hyperdrive, already spinning through all the things that will change, all the things that may never be the same, but finally she smiles.

“You’re going to love it,” she tells him, and changes the subject.

*** 

_ I’m moving to Paris. _

Scott’s words echo in her head as she gets ready for bed. Surely this is another whim of his...but if he’s already signed the contract, he’ll follow through.

_ It won’t be that bad, _ she thinks to herself. _ Phones exist, the internet is a thing. We’ll keep in touch. _

But she can’t shake the feeling that he hasn’t given her the real reason he’s leaving. It haunts her for the next hour and a half, before sleep finally takes her.

**[blue]**

The sun is bright outside the window as Tessa opens her eyes, illuminating everything around her except for a dark spot to her left. She turns her head to investigate and is met with a pair of lips on hers.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Scott says, and she smiles.

“Good morning,” she murmurs. “What time is it? What _ day _ is it?”

“It is Sunday and the time is 9:30, I gave you a whole extra half an hour,” he groans in exaggeration. “Can we go get breakfast now?”

“By the time I get ready, it’ll be more like brunch,” she replies. “But that means mimosas!”

***

“Are you okay?” Tessa asks, as Scott zones out again while they’re chatting. “Something on your mind?”

“No, sorry. I’ve just got a headache that won’t quit,” he says ruefully. 

“Did you–”

“I did take something for it, it took the edge off but it hasn’t gone away yet,” he finishes for her.

“I’m sorry your head is hurting,” Tessa says, and he shrugs.

“It’ll be fine,” he says, picking up his coffee. “What were we talking about?”

“Crepes,” she says, taking a sip of her mimosa. “We were trying to decide where we’ve had the best crepes.”

“That place in Paris,” they both say together, and laugh.

*** 

She’s always been envious of the ease with which Scott falls asleep, his consciousness blinking out almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. Tessa has always had trouble falling asleep. There’s so many things to think about, and she can never seem to get comfortable for at least half an hour after she gets into bed.

Tonight her thoughts are especially loud. She flops on her side towards the window, then rolls to her back before rolling to the other side to watch Scott sleep for a moment.

He stirs, then sighs, reaching for her. “Can’t sleep?” he mumbles.

“Mmhmm,” she responds, letting him pull her in so they’re forehead to forehead, heart to heart. She matches her breathing to his, and it only takes a minute or two before she can feel slumber begin to tug at her.

Tessa lifts her head and presses a kiss to his neck. “I’m so lucky to have you,” she whispers.

“Mmm,” Scott replies, and Tessa rolls over again to spoon against him, falling asleep tucked under his arm, the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat carrying her into her dreams.

**[red]**

Her phone is buzzing on her nightstand, pulling Tessa from her slumber. There’s a smile on her lips, and she can’t quite remember her dreams but she knows from the warm feeling she has that they were good ones.

Making a grumpy noise, she retrieves her phone, where she has five texts from Scott, each more frantic than the last.

_ Do you think I should take my blender? _

_ What about cleaning supplies? Should I just throw those away? _

_ I can’t find my fucking keys I think I packed them on accident _

_ Why do I have so much stuff _

_ HELp _

Tessa chuckles to herself and gets up to go rescue her best friend.

***

It’s Tuesday and Scott is neck deep in packing. 

“Those go in with the kitchen stuff,” Scott says, pointing at the huge plastic bag of bottle caps in Tessa’s arms from where he’s standing in the middle of three open boxes on his living room floor.

“What do you mean, they go with the–Scott, you can’t honestly mean you’re bringing these with you to _ Paris,” _ she says, exasperated. “What you should do is throw them away.”

“Are you kidding!?” Scott exclaims. “That’s ten years of bottle caps you’re holding, someday I’m gonna do something cool with them. Make a bar counter, or something.”

Tessa sighs. “Fine, keep them, but leave them in storage. You don’t need to take ten years of bottle caps with you.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “I know. It’s just that...I don’t really know what I need.”

“I thought that’s why you’re going to France,” she jokes, and briefly wonders if that was over the line but Scott laughs.

“You’re right,” he says. “I’ll find it, Virtch, don’t worry.”

She doesn’t say it out loud, but part of her is worried about exactly that.

*** 

“He’s really moving to _ France,” _ Jordan says in disbelief. “Because...he’s bored?”

“I don’t think that’s actually why, but he won’t tell me why, so ‘he’s bored’ is the official story right now,” Tessa says, a little bite of snark in her voice. She’s on her couch with her knees drawn up to her chest, in her favorite comfy pajamas. 

“So when does he leave?” her sister asks, leaning forward from her armchair to grab the bottle of reisling off the coffee table to top off her glass. 

“Next Friday, 6am.” Tessa takes a sip from her own glass. “I’m driving him to the airport.”

“Wow.” Jordan swirls the pale liquid around in her glass. “What do you think is really bothering him?”

“I wish I knew,” Tessa says, a hint of both irritation and sadness in her voice. “It’s got to be something to do with me, right? Otherwise he would tell me.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Jordan says. “He could be going through something, and he’s worried you’ll judge him.”

“What could he possibly be going through that he thinks I would judge him for?” Tessa asks her sister, who only shrugs. “Exactly.”

“Are _ you _ okay?” Jordan asks gently. “I know you guys are used to operating independently of each other these days, but this is a big change.”

“Of course I’m okay,” Tessa insists. “It’s not like we see each other every day anyway. He’ll move back when the season is over.” Her words are confident but her voice wavers, and Jordan sets down her wine glass to pile on the couch and hug her sideways.

“Whatever’s going on, it sounds like he just needs time,” Jordan tells her, and Tessa rests her head against her sister’s shoulder.

“I know, I’m being ridiculous. It’s just happening so fast, and I’ve been spending so much time helping with logistics that I haven’t really had time to process,” she says.

Jordan gives her an extra squeeze. “It’s going to be alright,” she says.

“Thanks.” Tessa puts her feet on the ground, flexes her feet to get rid of the stiffness in her legs. “I hate to kick you out, but I need to go to bed. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Okay.” Jordan examines her closely, to the point that Tessa raises her eyebrows. “Nothing. I just hope Scott figures his shit out.”

“Me too,” Tessa sighs.

**[blue]**

The first thing she notices when she wakes up is the feeling of immense sadness in her chest.

She lets it wash over her for a moment before trying to determine its source. She’s fine, Scott’s fine, everything is fine. The feeling dissipates as she mentally runs through anything that could be wrong and finds nothing of concern, shaking her head a little in an attempt to gather herself.

“Everything alright?” Scott asks from the doorway of their bedroom.

“Yeah, I just had a weird feeling,” she half mumbles, still slogging her way to wakefulness.

“Was it that a meteor is gonna hit the house? Because I’ll have to check our homeowner’s insurance,” he jokes, and the last remnants of sadness vanish as she giggles. “C’mon, I made pancakes.”

***

They’re early for their regular Tuesday slot on the ice, so they do some laps to start warming up during the last few minutes of public skating.

The rink is clearing out, and they step off to get some water and wait for the Zamboni by the boards. Scott puts his hand on her waist as he leans across her to retrieve his water bottle. “So what’re we doing today, boss?”

“How about some Latin? I need something upbeat today.” As she speaks, Scott is digging around his bag and finally stands holding a couple of capsules that he washes down with some water. “Do you still have that headache?”

“No...I mean, it went away for a while yesterday, but it’s back.” He pouts at her. “I think I deserve a quick neck rub, maybe that’ll help.”

Tessa giggles as she positions herself behind him. “I don’t know about deserve. I’ll give you one _ just _ because I love you so much.” 

He sighs and relaxes for a moment under her touch. “You’re the best, T.”

“I really am, aren’t I?” Scott stiffens suddenly, the opposite reaction of what she was expecting. “What, you don’t like my joke?” Still no response–

–and then Scott falls backward, still stiff as a board, directly onto Tessa, who is bewildered and terrified as he begins to shake and all she can do is try to protect his head as she gets him to the ground.

There’s a crowd gathering, and Tessa yells at a bystander to call 911, and then–an excruciating minute later–Scott stops shaking.

It’s another minute or two before he looks up at her from where his head rests in her lap. “Where the hell am I?”

Tessa almost sobs with relief. “You’re safe,” is all she can tell him. “You’re safe.”

***

She can only describe the hours that follow as _ harrowing _. Scott has another seizure while hooked up to the EKG, which is both terrifying and also the best possible timing because after that he is swiftly started on anti-seizure medication and admitted.

The guilt sets in when Alma and Joe arrive. Alma looks frantic, Joe looks grim, and Tessa immediately begins apologizing. “I’m so sorry, he told me he’d been having headaches and I should have told him to go to the doctor, I should have–”

“Tess, there is nothing to apologize for,” Joe says firmly. “These things happen, there’s no way you could have known.” The twist in her gut relaxes a bit.

“How is he?” Alma asks, her eyes bright with tears.

“Sleeping,” she says. “The doctor said he doesn’t remember the...seizures.” The word feels funny on her tongue, it’s not a word she thought she’d ever have to use while talking about Scott.

It’s not a word Alma was prepared for either, judging from how her face falls, and her insides twist up again. “Did he...hurt himself? Hit his head, or…”

“No,” Tessa says emphatically, shaking her head. “He got a little banged up, I’m sure, but I made sure not to let him hit his head.”

Alma sighs with relief, and then folds Tessa into a tight hug. “He’s so lucky you were there,” she whispers into Tessa’s shoulder, and it’s meant to be a reassurance but it’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back and she dissolves into tears.

“I just didn’t know what to do,” she sobs into Alma’s shoulder, sagging against the older woman. “It was so fast and I didn’t know what was happening, I didn’t know how to _ help _ him…”

Alma rubs her back to soothe her. “I know, honey. But you did help him and he’s here now, and everything’s going to be okay.”

It’s meant to put her at ease, but the chilly fear that has taken root in her chest remains.

*** 

Scott sleeps most of the day. He wakes up once, and Tessa sends Alma and Joe in to see him until he falls asleep again. She runs to get fast food and only buys fries, then throws three quarters of them away. She goes to the corner shop to try and find him a funny card, or a stuffed animal, but then she finds a balloon that, when she taps it with her finger, plays a cheesy song about feeling better. 

Back in his room, she ties the balloon to the side rail of the hospital bed and tries to make herself comfortable in the recliner in the corner. It’s better than she was expecting, and she’s well into a game of Words with Friends when he wakes up again.

“Hey,” she hears him say from the bed, and she looks up to find him gazing at her with eyes that are soft and a little confused.

“Hey,” she says, immediately dropping her phone and hopping out of the recliner to stand next to his bed.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “It’s–” he checks the clock– “It’s after 10, you should go home and get some sleep.”

“Nope, not leaving you,” she says, leaning down to give him a quick kiss. “That chair isn’t half bad.”

Scott chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

“Oh, I got you something,” she says, and taps the balloon to make it sing. “Thought you’d have fun driving everyone nuts.”

His smile is tired but beaming. “This is the best gift ever, T.” He yawns. “Whatever it is they’re giving me makes me tired.”

“They have you on Ativan,” Tessa tells him, “to keep you from having more seizures.”

Scott goes quiet. “Yeah,” he says. “The doctor came in to talk to me again while you were gone.” Then– “Thank you. For being there.”

“I’ll always be there,” she tells him, then goes to push the recliner up next to Scott’s bed. “There. Now I can sleep next to you.”

Tessa climbs into the recliner and takes the blanket from behind her head to shake it out over her. Then, carefully, she lowers the side rail of the bed, and Scott reaches for her, twining his fingers with hers.

They fall asleep that way, hand in hand.

**[red]**

There are tears on her face and her heart is pounding. Without hesitation she reaches for her phone and calls Scott.

It’s 3am but he finally answers. “Tess? Are you okay?”

Her relief is almost instantaneous. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just had a nightmare and needed to hear your voice, that’s all.”

He chuckles sleepily. “Well, I’m here and fine, and now awake.”

“Sorry,” she murmurs. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Nah,” he says, “I should pack more while I’m up. I can nap later. Wanna come help?”

Any other day she’d tell him to fuck off and go back to sleep, but suddenly she wants nothing more than to see him. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

*** 

“They’re just so vivid, I wake up feeling like it really happened,” Tessa says to Jordan over the phone. “It’s awful.”

“Wow. Why do you think you’re having them?” Jordan asks. “Dreams are supposed to be your subconscious working things out.”

“I don’t know, maybe...maybe it’s just because I’m afraid of losing him,” she replies. 

She hears Jordan snort over the phone. “I don’t think you need to worry about that,” her sister says. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tessa asks. 

Jordan balks for a moment, and in her mind Tessa can see her sister sitting in her favorite chair, biting her lip as she chooses her words carefully. “You two have a special relationship. I don’t think Scott’s going to run off to Paris and instantly forget the woman he went to the Olympics with three times.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Tessa says, “but it doesn’t make the fear go away.”

“I know, sweetie,” Jordan sighs. “I’ve gotta run, but I hope the dreams stop.”

“Me too,” she concurs. “I’ll talk to you later, love you.”

They hang up and Tessa considers her sister’s advice. On the one hand, she’s absolutely right–after everything they’ve been through, it would take something more disastrous than a move across the globe to break their bond. 

On the other...if Jordan was implying what Tessa thinks she was implying, it supports her theory that Scott’s move has more to do with her than he’s letting on.

And the dreams she’s been having...well, she’s not about to unpack that right now. 

With a sigh, she stuffs all her feelings to the back of her mind and gets up off her couch to go for a run.

***

“Thanks for all your help this morning,” Scott says over FaceTime. “It’s all finally starting to come together.”

“I know!” Her cheer might be forced, but only a little. “Are you getting excited?”

“I’m getting nervous,” he admits. “I don’t think it’s felt real until now.”

It still doesn’t feel quite real to Tessa. “Yeah, I get that.”

“Oh, mom wants to have a going away party for me,” Scott tells her. “Next Wednesday.”

“I’ll be there,” she promises, and they say their goodnights.

She’s apprehensive about going to sleep. Her getting ready for bed routine takes her 15 minutes longer than usual, and she picks up a book before she slides into bed. Unlike Scott, however, Tessa had not napped, and sleep takes her quickly.

**[blue]**

Her fingers are loosely entwined with Scott’s when she wakes up. He’d been taken to radiology in the middle of the night, and Tessa must have reached out to him while she was still asleep because she doesn’t remember him coming back, but the bed is back up next to the recliner with the rail down and her hand is in his.

The sadness is back in her chest, a heaviness that is somehow different from the sick anxiety she fell asleep with, but this time she has a vague recollection of what caused it. Scott was...moving away? _ Not hard to see the symbolism there, _ she muses to herself wryly. 

She flexes her fingers a little and the movement rouses Scott, who turns his head to look at her with sleepy eyes. “Good morning.”

“Good morning! How are you feeling?” Tessa sits up so she can kiss him.

“Much more like my normal self,” he says. “Think they’ll let me out today?”

“I hope so, but I guess first we have to see if the doctor has any news,” she replies, getting up to open the blinds on the window. “Healthy people don’t have seizures out of nowhere.”

“Maybe there’s just so much going on in my head that it’s misfiring,” he jokes, and they grin at each other.

***

The doctor does have news.

It isn’t good news.

Tessa sits in the recliner by the bed and stares listlessly at the notebook on her lap, where she’d taken notes on what the doctor had said. The words stare back.

_ Brain tumors, left anterior cerebrum & brain stem _

_ Neurology consult, biopsy before treatment plan _

_ Prognosis: ??? _

Scott lies in his bed on his side with his back to her. He hadn’t said much, just nodded along with everything being said. He didn’t say a word after the doctor left, either, just sat looking stunned for a few minutes before lying down.

She’d intended to type her notes into her phone, but instead she sets the notebook aside and gets up to join Scott. Curling around him in the narrow bed, she kisses the back of his neck. “You’re gonna be alright,” she says, and wraps her arms around him with a tight squeeze.

All he says is “Yeah,” but he laces the fingers of both hands through hers and gives them a squeeze.

***

The neurologist doesn’t have good news either.

Because one of the tumors is wrapping around his brain stem, the neurologist explains, surgery to remove it is difficult and potentially fatal. He tells them the biopsy is needed to determine the best course of action.

Scott is still uncharacteristically silent, but when the neurologist describes the procedure–they’re going to insert a needle into his brain–he grips her hand tightly.

It’s scheduled for the next day. No more solid foods until afterwards. He starts getting hangry around seven, and she sympathizes and gets him crushed ice from down the hall until the nurses tell her to stop.

That night Tessa pushes the recliner back into the corner and just climbs in bed with Scott–they both fit if they’re on their sides, so she wraps around him protectively and forces herself to keep her breathing slow and even.

She’s certain one of the nurses will tell her that’s not allowed, but no one says a thing.

**[red]**

Tessa wakes up with a start, not entirely sure where she is until she looks around and realizes she’s in her bedroom at home, not in a hospital bed with Scott.

Sighing, she picks up her journal to write down what she remembers.

**[blue]**

Scott is pacing as in the waiting room as they wait for the neurologist to call them back, and typically Tessa would call for him to sit down while she tries to distract him, but she lets him continue to walk back and forth across the already worn carpet. 

It’s been almost a week since that terrifying day. Scott is home, albeit with a shaved patch on his head where the biopsy had been performed, so a Leafs baseball cap has been added to his everyday wardrobe. He adjusts it anxiously as he paces.

She’s just as nervous, but trying not to show it. Everything feels cold and detached, like she’s someone else watching life happen through her eyes.

“Scott?” the nurse calls from the door, and he looks at her.

“Ready?” she asks, with a smile that is a little too bright.

“As I’ll ever be,” he answers, and the catch in his voice is small but it breaks her heart all the same.

*** 

The walls of the examination room are painted white and sage green, and the fluorescent light reflects it onto their faces, making them look sickly. Scott is finally sitting, but he’s bouncing a leg nonstop and his hand twitches in hers.

Dr. Weininger enters, and subconsciously Tessa sits up a little straighter from the slumped position she’d been in. _ Think good thoughts. Put that into the world. _

She pulls her notebook out of her purse to take notes, and the first few minutes are just the doctor going over the results from the bloodwork. Tessa’s gripping the pen so hard her knuckles are white and she’s leaving indentations on the page underneath. Scott is gripping her left hand just as tightly.

Then Dr. Weininger says the words that change their lives forever... 

_ ...malignant... _

_ ...glioblastoma multiforme... _

_...inoperable._

She doesn’t write them down, because the notebook is on the floor and she’s gathered Scott in her arms.

“How long do I have?” His voice is hoarse.

“On average, the life expectancy for patients with a glioblast–”

Scott shakes his head and interrupts. “No, how long do _ I _ have?”

The doctor regards him solemnly for a moment, then looks back to Scott’s chart, flipping through test results. “Given that the cells are showing rapid growth, between the placement and kind of tumor this is I would estimate you have anywhere from three months to a year, without any kind of treatment.”

All the air leaves Tessa’s lungs, and she gasps to pull her breath back to normal. Both men look at her, and she takes one more deep breath and squares her shoulders. “What treatment options are available?”

The next fifteen minutes are a disappointing and enraging primer on how ineffective most cancer treatments are on glioblastomas, with Tessa getting more and more agitated as she asks questions. “So you’re saying there’s nothing we can do?”

“Tessa,” Scott says quietly, trying to rein her in, but she’s off and running.

“You can’t remove all of the tumors because of where they are, chemo and radiation might work but they might not, what is he supposed to do? Just go home and die?” she asks, her voice rising.

_ “Tessa,” _ Scott says again, louder this time, and she shuts her mouth, pressing her lips together as if to keep the rest of her anger from spilling out. He turns back towards the doctor. “What’s left?” he asks, and the hopelessness in his voice is enough to pull tears to her eyes.

“Palliative care,” the doctor says, in the kindest voice she’s ever heard a doctor use, and she hates him for it. “We’ll do everything we can to improve your quality of life, and make sure you’re comfortable.”

They nod, stunned.

***

They go home on autopilot, Scott moving as though caught in a daze and Tessa’s limbs moving robotically on their own. When they walk through the door, Scott heads immediately to the bedroom to lie down.

“I’ll be right in,” she tells him, then walks calmly to the bathroom downstairs so Scott can’t hear her and retches into the toilet.

**[red]**

She’s supposed to be getting ready for Scott’s going away party, but instead she’s lying on her bed freshly showered in nothing but a towel, legs hanging over the side, staring at her ceiling.

It’s not that she doesn’t want to go, it’s that tonight feels important. Like she needs to get things perfect. The problem is that she’s not sure what she needs to get perfect, and for Tessa there is nothing more intimidating than the idea that she’s going to screw something up without realizing it.

With a troubled groan she gets up and goes to her closet. The party is at the Moirs’, so no cocktail dress necessary. She tries on a shift dress, then nixes it as too office-y. The next three outfits are too formal, too casual and too sporty. Finally she settles on skinny jeans and a flowy blouse that Scott had complimented her on once, a floral print with roses and mums on silky green fabric. 

Her phone chimes. _ I’m apologizing in advance, I think mom invited everyone I’ve known since I was born. _

Tessa shakes her head and smiles to herself. _ Some things never change, _ she thinks to herself, and gathers her chosen outfit to go finish getting ready.

***

Scott hadn’t been kidding–the Moir house is packed to the gills when Tessa arrives, and she barely has time to put down her purse and jacket before she’s greeted with a seemingly endless procession of Scott’s family members, some of whom she hasn’t seen in years.

“T-Bone!” His voice rings out from the opposite side of the living room, where he’s on the couch with a beer. “You made it!”

“You say that like you think there’s somewhere else I’d rather be,” she teases, and he grins at her as she plops down in the seat next to him. 

Alma appears in front of them. “Oh good, honey, you’re here. Can I get you anything? Cake, or a drink?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine for now,” Tessa tells her. “I can get myself something later.”

“Of course, whenever you’re ready. There’s no shortage of food or drink tonight,” Alma says with a laugh, but then her eyes turn serious. “How are you, dear?”

The concern in her voice catches Tessa off guard, and she fumbles for a moment. “I’m, um, I’m good! I mean, uh...of course I’m bummed that this guy’s gonna be halfway across the globe,” she says, nudging Scott with her elbow, “but this just gives me a good reason to go to Paris!”

Alma smiles and bends over to give her a hug, but Tessa gets the feeling the older woman isn’t entirely convinced of her answer. Nor are the next several people who ask her variations on the same question. 

It’s beginning to feel like this party is being thrown for her instead of Scott, and when Jordan finally arrives Tessa immediately corners her in the kitchen and drags her out back.

“Oh my god, what?” Jordan asks. “What is going on with you?”

“Does everyone think I have feelings for Scott?” Tessa hisses in a whisper.

Jordans mouth drops open into a small O. “Why would you say that?” she stammers, flustered.

“Because literally twenty people have asked how I’m doing, am I okay, will I miss him?” Tessa fiddles with her ring in frustration. “It’s like they’re more interested in how I’m doing than the fact that Scott is moving to another continent.”

Jordan sighs. “Look, Tess,” she says, “you guys have been a cohesive unit for years, of course people are going to wonder how you’re taking it.”

“I guess you’re right.” Tessa gives her sister a hug. “Hi, I’m glad you came.”

“Thanks, good to see you,” Jordan says with a laugh. “I’m gonna go find Alma and say hello to the guest of honor.”

Tessa stays outside after her sister goes back in, enjoying the silence and the lack of people asking her how she is. Inside, someone starts playing music, and she listens to Ella Fitzgerald and breathes in the cooling evening air.

“There you are,” Scott calls out from the back door. “I almost didn’t see you with that shirt on, you blend in with the shrubs.”

“I thought you liked this top,” she pouts, as he steps behind her and puts an arm around her waist.

“I do like that top,” he says. “I love how you look in green.”

The fondness in his voice makes her blush. “How’s the party? I feel like every Moir in Canada is here tonight.”

“They might be,” he says. “The party’s great, I was just missing my dance partner.”

Inside, someone bumps up the volume a touch. _ When you’re in my arms, and I feel you so close to me...all my wildest dreams come true… _

Scott turns to her and bows exaggeratedly with his arm out. “May I have this dance?”

“Of course,” Tessa says, miming a curtsey and taking his hand. He pulls her close, one hand in hers, one hand on the small of her back. Tessa places her free hand on his shoulder, then slides it around his neck so she can lay her head on his chest.

“Are you really gonna come visit me?” he asks as they sway back and forth.

“Yes, I’ll come visit you,” she says, as though his question is the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “My favorite person in my favorite place? You’ll have to be careful I don’t try to move in without you noticing.” ..._ It isn’t your sweet conversation that brings this sensation, oh no...it’s just the nearness of you... _

Scott rests his chin on top of her head, and she can feel that he’s smiling. “You’ll have to be careful I don’t kidnap you and keep you there.”

There’s a warmth in her chest that begins to spread. “It’s not really kidnapping if I stay willingly,” she says, joking to try and ward off the lump in her throat and the tears prickling behind her eyelids.

Scott chuckles, a low vibration that makes her heart clench. “I am really gonna miss you, Virtch.”

“I’m really gonna miss you too,” she whispers back. 

_ ...I need no soft lights to enchant me, if you'll only grant me the right to hold you ever so tight… _

She feels the sigh deep in his chest. “We’re gonna be alright, T,” he murmurs.

“I know we will,” she says. “I know.”

_ And to feel in the night _

_ the nearness of you _

**[blue]**

Tonight is Jordan’s engagement party, and Tessa has never felt less like celebrating.

“You know, you don’t have to go if you’re not feeling up to it,” she says tentatively as they begin to get ready, and Scott gives her a sharp look as he puts on a dress shirt.

“I feel fine, I told you that earlier,” he says, buttoning up his shirt. “I want to go.” 

“I know, but we could order in and get on YouTube and have a _ Jeopardy! _ marathon…” she stops when she sees his expression, lips pressed into a line and brow furrowed. “Okay,” she sighs, laying her purple cocktail dress on the bed. “I don’t want to go to my sister’s engagement party.”

“Why not?” Scott asks, dumbfounded. “You’ve been looking forward to this for weeks, Tess.”

“Yeah, but that was _ before,” _ she says. “I don’t know if I can handle this right now. I want to stay here, with you, for as long as I can.”

“But I don’t want to stay here, Tessa!” The words explode from him with a force that brings tears to her eyes. “I could go any day. Any of us could go any day. I don’t know how much longer I have until I start...start getting worse,” he stutters, “and I don’t know how many more major life events I’ll be a part of, and I just really want to go to your sister’s engagement party, okay?” His shoulders sag as he sits down on the bed.

Part of Tessa wants to lose it right there, just break down on the floor sobbing until she can’t cry anymore, but instead she sits down next to him and takes his hand, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. You’re right. We should go,” she tells him, and her voice only quavers a little.

“Yeah?” he asks, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah,” she says, more confidently this time. 

“Okay,” he says, kissing her forehead. “Then let’s do this.”

*** 

She knows Scott made the right decision, and everyone has been behaving normally; there have been a couple of pitying looks, and Scott has been asked how he’s doing about a thousand times, but for the most part it just feels like any other family event. 

It’s refreshing to be at a function where they can relax and focus on something else for a while, but after a couple of hours Tessa is starting to feel peopled out, along with a disorienting sense of déjà vu. Quietly she slips out of the restaurant, out onto the back patio, which is surrounded by high shrubs and a trellis. The night air is brisk, and she fills her lungs and closes her eyes.

He comes up behind her–even with her eyes closed, she can tell it’s him by the sound of his footsteps. “Hey,” he says, “what’s up?”

“Oh, I just needed a break,” she says. “There’s a lot of people in there.”

“Yeah, your sister knows how to throw a party,” he says. “You sure nothing else is bothering you?”

“Nothing important,” she tells him, “being here is making me...you know. Think about things.”

“What?” he presses, and she relents.

“Just–I used to wonder, in the back of my head, how you’d ask me to marry you, if you ever did.” She can’t look at him directly. “It’s–it’s stupid and silly, I know.” She forces a laugh.

He doesn’t speak for a long time, long enough that she finally looks over at him and finds he’s not laughing, he’s looking at her with a mixture of longing and defeat, and his eyes are almost misty. “At home,” he says after another agonizing moment. “Over a dinner I cooked from scratch. Candles, wine, jazz playing in the background, the whole deal.” He has to stop to clear his throat before speaking again. “I’d tie the ring to your wine glass, you know, so I’d say I was going to get the wine and leave until you found it and–”

The way his voice breaks as he’s describing the proposal that never will be is enough to coax a sob from her throat, and he stops to comfort her. “Don’t, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she repeats, trying to wave him off but his arms are already around her.

“It’s okay,” he tells her, and she knows he means she doesn’t have to apologize, but the words just makes the tears flow faster. 

“No,” she chokes out, “it’s not. Please–please don’t–” 

She feels him sigh around her, and he adjusts their arms until they’re standing in some semblance of a dance hold, swaying gently in time to the music coming from indoors. ..._ I’ll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places… _

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re gonna be alright,” he whispers to her. 

“I know,” she says, “but I’m so afraid.”

“Me too,” he confesses, pulling her closer. “Me too.”

_ I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new, _

_ I’ll be looking at the moon but I’ll be seeing you _

**[red]**

Her pillow is damp when she wakes up. She’s not sure if she was crying in her sleep because of her dreams, or because today is the day Scott leaves.

***

She pulls the car to a stop in the drop off lane. “You’ve got everything?”

“Suitcase, check. Keys, check. Wallet, check. Phone, check.” He looks over at her. “That’s everything.”

“Okay, good,” she says softly, gazing at him until he gives her a look. “Sorry, I was just…”

“Trying to memorize what I look like?” he asks, and she blushes because that’s exactly what she was doing. “I’m moving, Tess, not dead. I’ll be around.”

“I know.” She leans over the center console to give him a hug, and then pops the trunk so he can get his suitcase. “Call me when you get in, okay? I don’t care how late or early it is.”

“Wow, Virtch, I’m touched you would let me interrupt your beauty sleep,” he cracks, and she half shoves him out the car door with a giggle.

“Bon voyage,” she yells out at him, and she can see his grin in her rearview mirror when he closes the trunk. “Love you!”

“Love you too, kiddo,” he yells back, and then he walks away and disappears through the airport doors.

Tessa sits for a long moment–partly because she doesn’t want to leave him there, partly because she knows there is a chance of him running back out because he forgot something–but finally a car behind her honks and she pulls out of the drop off lane to drive home.

Alone.

***

Physically, Scott is no longer close by. Tessa almost wishes she could erase him from her mind, just for a little while, just until she adjusts to life without his regular presence. The nightmares continue, and no sleeping pill or point of exhaustion will make them stop.

During the day, she is a facade of a functional adult, energetic and productive and in no way heartsick. In her dreams she is bereft, forced to live through losing her best friend in a much more permanent way.

She wonders if Dream Tessa despises her. After all, her Scott is just a text or a phone call away, walking and breathing and living his life, even if it is a life without her.

***

She starts staying awake for as long as she can. It seems like she’s getting away with it, for a while, until Jordan demands to know how much she’s been sleeping. “Honestly, Tess, the circles under your eyes look like someone drew them on with sharpie.”

“I sleep,” she says defensively. “I’m just still having those dreams, it’s not very restful.”

“Have you considered seeing someone about them?” her sister asks her.

No, she hadn’t. What was she going to do, walk into a therapist’s office and say “So I’ve been living a whole other life in my dreams, to the point that sometimes I’m not sure if I’m asleep or awake”?

Definitely not, so all she says is “The person I need to see isn’t available right now.”

Jordan doesn’t need to know she’s talking about Scott.

**[blue]**

She starts counting days.

For the first twenty or so days he has headaches and nausea, and the anticonvulsants make him sluggish. Tessa takes him to endless appointments, picks up his prescriptions, makes sure he takes all his medications on time. Her command of time management becomes a boon as his memory begins to fail around day 45.

They start having small arguments throughout the day, Scott insisting that nothing is wrong, Tessa insisting that his symptoms are normal. She learns not to get too invested in their fights, because he usually forgets they were fighting as soon as it’s over.

On day 63 she finds him in the downstairs bathroom, sitting on the floor with his back against the tub and red rimmed eyes.

He looks up at her. “None of this is normal, Tess. None of it.”

She sits down next to him, and they hold each other and cry.

***

On day 71 Alma comes over and tells Tessa her mother is expecting her for lunch. Numbly Tessa tries to tell her she can’t leave Scott, but Alma just shakes her head and picks up Tessa’s purse.

“He’ll be fine for two hours. Go,” she says gently, and Tessa takes her purse and leaves, casting nervous glances over her shoulder the whole way to her car. 

*** 

“So how are you?” her mother asks, setting a salad and a sandwich in front of Tessa.

“Doing really well, all things considered!” Tessa chirps. “Scott’s motor skills don’t seem to be affected, so despite the memory loss at least he gets around well by himself. We’ve been going to the park every day!”

Kate reaches over from her seat next to Tessa and takes her hand. “No, Tessa, how are _ you _ doing?” she asks gently.

Tessa blinks rapidly at the inquiry. “I’m fine,” she says, suddenly feeling unsure of herself. “I mean, I think I’m doing great.” She notices a box of tissues on the kitchen table, a sure sign the conversation is only going to get harder.

“Are you eating?” Kate asks, nodding at the food in front of Tessa that she hasn’t touched yet.

She picks up her fork as though she’s been scolded. “I’m eating,” she says, “Scott’s on a special diet and he’s eating smaller meals throughout the day, and I eat with him.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Kate lets go of her hand and sits back, studying Tessa for a minute. “Are you seeing anyone about what’s going on? A therapist, or a grief counselor?”

Tessa balks for a moment. “I’m not seeing a therapist. Not yet, anyway.” She picks up a large bite of her salad and puts the whole thing in her mouth so she won’t be expected to talk more.

“I really think you should,” her mother says. “I’m worried about you.”

Tessa swallows her bite of salad. “Worried about _ me? _ There’s no reason to be worried about me, I’m not the one dying of a brain tumor,” she says, her voice lifting an octave.

“Tessa,” her mother says sternly, and Tessa sets down her fork and puts her hands in her lap, chastened. “I don’t know what you’re going through right now, and I know you’re pouring your heart and soul into taking care of Scott, but you’ve got to take care of yourself, too.”

Her eyes begin to fill with tears. “I just can’t leave him during the day,” she says quietly. “Sometimes, he forgets he lives in our house and he tries to leave to go back to his parents’. Or he takes his medication and forgets and tries to take it again. It’s just happening so fast...I can’t leave him.”

“Then we’ll find someone to help you out,” Kate says, “just like Alma came over today. You need to take care of yourself so you can take care of him.”

There’s a rush of relief, and then a rush of guilt over how relieved she is. “No, I mean...what if something happens while I’m gone?”

A look of understanding dawns in Kate’s eyes. “Oh, honey,” she says. “Come here.”

Tessa gets up and sits in her mother’s lap like a child, and Kate hugs her tightly, and the dam breaks. She buries her head in Kate’s shoulder. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she weeps as her tears soak into her mother’s sweater. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“I know, baby, shh, I know.” Kate rocks her as though she’s a toddler. “And I know you’re doing the best you can, but you don’t have to do this all by yourself.”

“I’m just so afraid he’s going to...going to go when I’m not there,” Tessa sobs.

“I wish I could tell you that’s not going to happen, but none of us can control that,” Kate says to her softly. “Not even Scott, not even with how stubborn that boy is.”

Tessa lets out a noise that is half sob, half laugh. “He’s so stubborn, isn’t he?”

“Here.” Kate hands her the box of tissues, and she takes a few to wipe at her eyes and nose. “You are doing an amazing job of caring for him. Now let your mother take care of you.”

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Tessa smiles through her tears. 

**[red]**

The time difference between Ontario and France has actually become convenient in at least one way for Tessa–now when she wakes up from a nightmare and needs to call Scott, it’s much later in the day for him which makes it more likely he’ll answer the phone. 

“Nightmare again?” he asks, before even saying hello. 

“Yeah,” she says, a bit sheepish. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nah,” he says, “Today’s my day off.”

“Oh, good,” she says, hoping to change subjects so he won’t ask her what it was about. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going great!” he says, sounding happier than she would prefer, and launches into a story from the day before while Tessa listens to the cadence of his words and wills her heart to stop beating so fast.

**[blue]**

Her therapist’s name is Anita. She has wonderfully curly hair in a natural afro and kind eyes and a lot of good reviews from caregivers of loved ones who are terminally ill, so Tessa sets up an appointment. Once a week someone–Alma, Kate, Joe, even Jordan–comes over and stays with Scott so she can drive to Anita’s office and bawl on her couch for 45 minutes.

On her fourth visit she apologizes. “I’m sorry, I know we’re not making much progress,” she says.

“I measure progress a little differently,” Anita says. “Do you cry at home?”

“I do occasionally, but mostly I’m trying to hold it together for Scott.” 

“But you feel safe enough to cry here?” Anita asks, and Tessa nods hesitantly. “And you’re willing to keep coming back?” She nods again. “Then that’s progress,” Anita tells her, and for the first time in months Tessa feels at peace with herself.

***

Their days are so routine that Tessa hardly notices them becoming incrementally more difficult for her to handle by herself. Scott’s moods get more mercurial, and Dr. Weininger explains during their appointment on day 127 that a tumor is causing pressure on the parts of the brain that control behavior. 

That night Scott gets down on one knee in the kitchen. “I know it’s not what I envisioned,” he says, “and I already know you’re in this with me til the bitter end, but I want the honor of calling you my wife while I’m...still me. So, Tessa Jane Virtue,” he continues, holding up a ring made of twist ties, “will you marry me? Tomorrow?”

The rush of emotions that wash over Tessa make her knees buckle, so she gets down on the floor in front of him. She’s never wanted anything more, and even as her brain is screaming at her that _ this will make it so much harder in the end _ she looks him in the eye and speaks from her heart. “Scott,” she says, “there is nothing I’ve ever wanted more than to be your wife.”

A grin slowly spreads across his face. “Yeah? Is that a yes?”

She nods, unable to speak for a moment, and this time the tears on her face are tears of happiness. “Yes,” she manages to say, the words mixing with laughter. “I’ll marry you tomorrow. I’d marry you every day, if I could!”

They get married at the courthouse the next day, Scott in a suit and Tessa in a simple white lace dress with a crown of flowers she’d managed to procure that morning. The excitement buoys them both through the short civil ceremony and their celebratory lunch afterwards, and when they get home Tessa calls Kate while Scott calls up Alma and Joe at the same time so they can tell all of them the news together. 

The next day Scott is so nauseated he can’t get up for most of the day, so they lie in bed together and cuddle and watch Netflix, and call each other “husband” and “wife” an obnoxious amount.

It’s no honeymoon at a beach resort, but Tessa treasures every moment just the same. 

***

Day 143 is when it all falls apart.

Scott collapses twice at home, both times while fully conscious–his legs simply give out, and the second time he narrowly misses hitting his head on the kitchen counter. 

Then he has another seizure, even with the medications. And then he has another. And another. 

The day ends in the emergency room, another night with a reclining chair pushed up next to the hospital bed.

She holds Scott’s hand again, but this time she doesn’t sleep at all. Instead she stares at the simple gold band on her left ring finger, and the matching band on his, and wonders how many more nights she has with him. Wonders if she’ll keep dreaming about him moving away after he’s gone.

***

They decide on in-home hospice care. It’s a blessing, because between the hospice care workers and their family and friends, someone will be with Scott 24/7. It makes the hard times a little easier, to have an extra set of hands or just someone to listen to the frustrations of the day.

They spend time creating digital photo albums for their families and pretending to argue about what Scott’s funeral will be like.

“Prop me up on a stand so everyone can take selfies with me,” he jokes.

“No way, you’re getting a full Viking funeral,” she teases back. “I’ll take archery lessons so I can light you on fire with an arrow.” It takes the edge off on his bad days, to be able to laugh about something, anything.

Tessa stops counting the days and makes a vow to herself to be as fully present as she can be. 

_ Now it’s a countdown, _ she thinks, _ where nobody knows how much time is left on the clock. _

**[red]**

Since the morning Scott left Tessa has been counting down the days until the end of the season.

It’s around day 200 that someone says something that reminds her Scott’s homecoming isn’t a certainty, and she realizes she may not be counting down the days until he gets home, but counting up the days until he moves on without her.

It’s a depressing thought, so she stops counting days altogether.

**[blue]**

Scott dies on a Sunday.

She doesn’t remember much else, only that when she finally passes out from exhaustion she dreams of sending him texts about, of all things, crepes. 

***

She speaks at his memorial. The private one, at least. Talks about all the things he was to her, and all the things he was to everyone, all the things that are missing from the world now that he’s gone.

Her voice breaks at one point, and her mother and sister rush up to stand beside her, to prop her up so she can finish. 

Holding one of their hands in each of hers, she finishes the eulogy. She owes him that much. 

***

The days all begin to blur together. Sometimes, she’s not sure if she’s dreaming or awake, and those days are the worst–a tiny seed of hope that she might see him again, hear his voice, feel his arms around her, before the realization that it’s another Scott in a different life she’s thinking of.

“Is that...common?” she asks Anita. “To have dreams like that after losing someone?”

“It’s very common,” Anita tells her. “It’s another way for your psyche to process thoughts and emotions, and it can help you come to terms with your grief.”

Tessa’s not entirely convinced–after all, if these dreams are supposed to help her cope with her grief, then why does she still feel like she’s waiting for him to come back?

**[red]**

She picks up the phone like she has countless times before, but this time she calls her sister. “Hi, Jor–yeah, I know what time it is, I’m sorry. I have to go to France, can you come over?”

***

Jordan doesn’t even greet her before launching into a rant. “What the _ hell _, Tessa! I was up late last night working on a case and you call me at 4am to tell me that you’re fucking off to–where is it, exactly, that you need to fuck off to?”

“Paris,” Tessa supplies helpfully.

_ “Paris,” _ Jordan breathes, and Tessa could swear she sees smoke coming out of her nostrils. “Please tell me why you need to go to Paris at 4am on a Tuesday.”

“I gotta go see about a guy,” she says, and her sister goes completely still.

“You gotta go–wait, are you talking about _ Scott?” _ she asks, and Tessa nods. “Oh my–you’re gonna fly to...and surprise him? Ohmygod that’s so...YES,” she shouts with a fist pump, then realizes she hasn’t actually finished a sentence yet. “Okay, first of all you stole that from Good Will Hunting,” she says to Tessa’s amused face, “and second of all, why do you need me here?”

“To tell me I’m making the right choice,” she says, “And to give me a ride to the airport? Maybe? My flight leaves at 2pm.”

Jordan drops her purse with a sigh. “You’re lucky I love you so much,” she says. “Come on, let’s go get you packed.” 

*** 

As it turns out, taking a spontaneous transatlantic flight to reunite with someone takes a lot longer in real life than it does in the movies. By the time Tessa makes it to her hotel she’s almost turned around to go right back home four times and texted Jordan about four hundred times.

She tries to get a couple of hours of sleep and fails, takes a shower and spends a long time afterwards looking at herself in the mirror through the steam. _ What if I’m reading this all wrong? What if he laughs in my face? _

“You’ve made it this far,” she tells her reflection. “You’re in the home stretch.”

***

He’s on the other side of those doors, and all she has to do is walk through them.

Tessa does what she used to do after puking her guts out in the bathroom at a competition. She takes three deep breaths, stands up perfectly straight, and walks into the rink with as much confidence as she can muster.

She stops short when she sees him with Théo and Loïcia at the other end of the rink. They seem to be working hard on something, and Tessa hovers awkwardly near the exit, unsure of her next steps.

About a half second before she turns around to leave, they skate to the boards for a break, and Théo spots her before she can make her escape. Scott’s eyes follow Théo’s questioning gaze, and his face lights up in a kind of dumbfounded delight when he realizes who it’s directed at.

“Tess!” he calls out happily, his voice echoing through the rink as he skates towards her. “What are you doing here?” He fumbles with his skate guards, in a hurry to get off the ice and wrap her up in a huge bear hug. 

His arms feel so good around her, she forgets why she’s there for a moment. “I missed you,” she manages to stammer, and he sets her back down and gives her an appraising look, apparently noticing that she hasn’t slept in 36 hours.

“Jesus, Tess, are you alright? You look awful,” he blurts out, the look on his face telling her that he immediately regrets saying that.

“Thanks a lot,” she jokes weakly, and he hugs her again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. You just look like you haven’t slept in a week,” he says. 

Tessa shakes her head. “I’m fine,” she says, “don’t worry about that right now. Listen, I’m here because I really need to tell you something.”

“What? Is everything okay at home?” he asks, suddenly realizing that her appearance might not mean good news.

She shakes her head to tell him that’s not why she’s there. “Yeah, everything’s great at home, I just...I love you.” 

His eyes are curious and a little amused. “I love you too, Virtch. You couldn’t have said that over the phone?”

“No, Scott, I _ love _ you,” she says, and the words start spilling out so fast she almost can’t keep up. “I mean, I’m _ in _ love with you. And I’m so sorry, I’m an idiot for not realizing it until you left, and you’re out here trying to make a new life and a new home and it’s just that-” she swallows hard. “It’s just that...I want to be who you come home to.”

Scott stands blinking at her, and slowly his expression moves through surprise to concern, and finally sheer joy. He reaches out to brush away a tear she hadn’t noticed was there. “Oh, Tess,” he says, and the tenderness in his voice cracks her heart wide open. “I was always going to come home to you.” 

Gently he cups her cheek and bends down to kiss her and the whole world disappears–until they hear clapping from the ice and remember that Scott was in the middle of a training session, and that his team is right there.

He looks at her apologetically, and she smiles and waves him off. “Go,” she says. “I’m going to go nap for eight hours, let’s get dinner?”

“Of course,” Scott says, giving her another quick kiss before returning to his coaching duties.

**[blue]**

Tessa wakes up with a strange, strong feeling of peace radiating through her body.

She doesn’t question it, just lets it enfold her until she drifts back off to sleep. 

***

The days don’t get easier, but they don’t seem as long anymore. The dreams don't stop, but he's in them again...she even wakes up feeling happy sometimes, and she knows she was with him in her dreams, and slowly she begins to see it as a blessing. 

Some mornings she wonders if she’s losing her mind, but on others she likes to think that their love is so strong that it flows through the very fabric of reality. That it reaches across the border between worlds to remind her of everything beautiful and true in the universe.

Tessa clings to this, and it’s her lifeline, pulling her through the storm.

**[red]**

They move in together six months after Scott moves back from Paris, and about three months after Scott finally stops telling everyone they meet on the street that Tessa made him come back.

Absolutely no one is surprised by this.

*** 

He meets her at the door and takes her coat, which is clue #1 that something is afoot because she only left for a two hour meeting. Clue #2 is that whatever Scott has going on in the kitchen, it smells incredible.

“What’s all this for?” she asks, but he just smiles a mysterious little smile and tells her to follow him.

Somehow, in two hours Scott has transformed the dining room into a romantic little scene straight out of a fancy restaurant. There are candles and roses on the table, and she can hear Sinatra playing from the sound system in the living room. He pulls her chair out so she can sit, then excuses himself. “I’m going to go get the wine.”

A ghost of a memory flickers through Tessa’s head, and before she picks up her wine glass she knows what she’ll find–a beautiful ring, bound to the stem with ribbon.

“Do you know what today is?” Scott asks her from the doorway to the kitchen, where Tessa looks up to find him holding a bottle of wine. She shakes her head, unable to speak, and he continues. “Today is the day you showed up in Paris and gave me a reason to come back.” He fills her glass, then his, then sets down the bottle to carefully loose the ring from its bindings. “Tessa Jane,” he says, getting down on one knee, “there is no one on earth I’d rather come home to, for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she says, breathless and giddy as he slides the ring onto her finger. “Yes, I’ll marry you!” She gets down on the floor with him to throw her arms around his neck and kisses him, laughter bubbling through both their lips.

“I started shopping for that ring before we even went to dinner that day,” he whispers, and her heart is bursting, it’s so full. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect,” she says, joyous tears running down her face. “It’s all perfect.”

**[blue]**

Kate stands back a ways when they reach the grave, letting Tessa step forward with the roses she brought so she can have a few private moments.

She kneels, laying the flowers on the ground and tracing the letters of his name on the headstone. There’s only one thing she wants to say to him today.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “It was just as lovely as I knew it would be.”

Tessa stands and Kate steps forward to pay her respects, and both women stand in silence for a few moments before heading back to the car.

“I’m so proud of you, honey,” Kate says, wrapping an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “You’ve handled all of this with so much grace.”

Tessa smiles through her tears. “Thanks, mom,” she says. “At least I get to see him in my dreams.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Chain by Ingrid Michaelson
> 
> [Soundtrack on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1g1D9JQ5k28UtmCCq8vfVo?si=9jIrDLFKTl2Prk2qbbpIEw)


End file.
